A Question of Cookies
by TrueImmortality
Summary: Andromeda Black, sister of Narcissa and Bellatrix Black, is happily in the midst of a very mundane Muggle task-- when her very pureblood-minded siblings arrive home.


**Author's Note: Hello all! This is, as you might guess, my first ever Harry Potter fanfic! I was suddenly struck with inspiration for this story. It's not exactly the usual type of story in which Death Eaters are placed, or future Death Eaters, I suppose, but...**

**Oh, just as a side note: I did not try to stay true to British dialect or lingo. I know cookies aren't really called cookies in England, but I don't remember what they're traditionally called. Biscuits, is it? I don't know, and since I'm not English, I'm sticking to the American way of things. ;)**

**Thank you! Read and Review, please!**

A Question of Cookies

"1 1/2 cups flour," she muttered, wiping a stray strand of hair off her sweaty forehead. "Flour. Flour is in..." she rooted around the expansive kitchen, "this cupboard!"

With a heavy clunk, she set the marble can on a stone table and scooped out the correct amount of flour, spilling some of the white powder on the work surface. "Okay, so there's flour, and now the butter. Oh, no, wait, I need--" she checked the recipe. "Baking soda? But what's--"

There was a crack from the floor tiles. The witch shrieked, knocking off the canister of flour. A dumpy little figure, clothed in old rags, cowered on the ground, covered in heaps of white, the remains of the marble can scattered around it. "Forgive me, mistress," croaked the dirty creature, "Kreacher did not mean to startle Mistress Andromeda."

"Oh, Kreacher, it's just you." The witch, Andromeda, took her hand off her chest and evened out her breathing. Leaning against the counter, she gave the house elf a warm smile. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Who was Mistress Andromeda expecting, except Kreacher?" asked the house elf, giving the girl a sly look.

"N-nobody," Andromeda managed to sound almost casual as she set about sweeping up the mess of flour. "I wasn't expecting you, either, you belong to my aunt."

"Kreacher is helping while Mistress Black is away." Compulsively wringing his hands, Kreacher took the broom from the young witch. "Allow me, Mistress Andromeda. If you would permit Kreacher to make the--"

"No, I want to do it!"

The house elf threw a glance of deepest regret at her. "But Kreacher is good at baking, and Mistress Andromeda has better things to do than mix flour and dough like a commoner."

"I _like_ baking, Kreacher," Andromeda asserted for the fourteenth time. "Now as soon as you finish up with that you can leave."

"Yes, Mistress," sighed Kreacher in a distraught way. With a few quick sweeps, the house elf cleaned up the rest of the flour and dumped it in the dirt bin, tossing in the pieces of marble as well. Bowing to the girl, Kreacher made one last plea. "Perhaps, with Mistress Andromeda's consent, Kreacher could gather the rest of the ingredients?"

"Erm--" Andromeda glanced at the vast kitchen and its numerous doors and baskets. "All right. The list is in the recipe book."

"Thank you, Mistress!" Kreacher beamed.

"But just the ingredients, mind! Not the baking itself!"

"Yes, yes, Mistress! Kreacher will find all the ingredients for Miss Andromeda!"

The young witch tapped her fingers impatiently on the table and rumpled her short, dark hair while the house elf went to work, wriggling his tiny body into the pantry and the other cupboards. The hunt for ingredients was over in a moment; with a triumphant smile, Kreacher set the bottle of vanilla extract down. "Thank you, Kreacher," said Andromeda, snatching up her recipe book.

"Of course, Miss Andromeda. Kreacher wants to help his mistresses the Blacks." With another bow, Kreacher literally popped out of sight, disappearing on the spot with a bang. Once the house elf was gone, Andromeda sighed in relief. She was alone at last.

"Now, where was I?" She scanned the recipe. "Set oven to 375 degrees. Well," she eyed the huge, old-fashioned stove dubiously, "I suppose I could try finding the dials on this monster..."

Three mishaps and several cooking sheets later, the young witch slid her batch of cookies into the gigantic oven with immense satisfaction. Despite everything that had stood in her way, she'd overcome the obstacles and was finally going to turn out a good dozen homemade, muggle-style cookies. This batch would be her seventh attempt to bake something other than the Slytherin crest-shaped cake her family was so fond of.

Andromeda let out a gust of breath; sometimes, she did not even know why she was in Slytherin.

Just as she lowered the oven door to poke at her creations, she heard the front door of her family's extensive house burst open, accompanied by the sound of derisive laughter. "Cissy, if you keep panting after that arrogant imbecile, I'm going to hex his pretty little face off!"

"You just shut up and leave me alone, Bella." The second voice was not laughing; on the contrary, its owner was distinctly out of sorts. Footsteps sounded in the hall outside the kitchen, and the clunking of Wellington boots being discarded sent Andromeda into a panic. Sticking the oven mits that had been perched on her hands into the nearest drawer, she grabbed her wand and stood in front of the oven, hiding the glow of the light inside the oven with her body.

The first voice was still snickering when two girls, both older than Andromeda, swept into the kitchen, intent on their heated conversation.

"I'm warning you now, Bella, if you interfere with my chances with Lucius--"

"It'd be for your own good, anyway."

With an icy glare, the second oldest girl, Narcissa Black, shook out her long, silvery blonde hair. "He's a pureblood! Why do you insist on calling him worthless?"

Bellatrix, or Bella, the oldest of the Black sisters, set her wand on the table used for dining. "He's only got one ambition, and that's to be your _boyfriend_! No offense, Cissy, but that's not exactly a good recommendation."

Andromeda stealthily moved across the kitchen, cleaning up the last vestiges of her baking project. Her sisters did not notice the subtlety of the bowls dipping silently into the hefty cast-iron sink, nor the spoons and mixers plopping in behind them. Screwing on the ancient faucet, the young witch began to wash the first, largest bowl by hand. Inadvertently, she tuned her ears back in to her siblings' argument over the Malfoy boy.

"--so keep your nose out of it!" Narcissa had squared herself off with Bella, hands on hips, a scowl stretching across her lips. "I am perfectly within my rights to pick whom I want to date!"

"Maybe you are," answered Bellatrix, "but don't expect me to go hand in hand with any sniveling, pathetic excuse for a dark wizard!"

Narcissa let out a furiously indignant noise, but before she could open her mouth Bella turned suddenly, pinning her youngest sister with a gaze. "And what is that you're hiding behind your back, Dromeda?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," returned Andromeda, with a sad effort at coldness.

"Have you been baking again? Muggle fashion?"

Blushing pink, the youngest Black girl's eyebrows rose in ridicule. "How else would I bake, Bella? You know very well I'm underage."

"You could try letting the house elves do it for you," Bella responded sweetly, showing all of her teeth.

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "We don't have any elves, or did you forget that little detail?"

"There's Kreacher, he's staying here for a good while. Use him while we've got him."

"Oh, leave off, Bella," said Narcissa, shooting her sister an annoyed look. "Can't you give anybody any peace when we're on holiday?"

"Of course, stick up for our Squibby sister! I'm not the one who's dating a Mudblood!"

"Don't you say that about Ted!" gasped Andromeda, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't wanted her sisters to find out _for whom _she was baking the cookies.

"Ah-ha!" cried Bella, pointing an accusing finger at Dromeda. "So you are fancying a Muggle-born! What's wrong with both of you?"

"There's nothing wrong with Ted!" Andromeda turned hurt eyes on her oldest sister. "He's as good a wizard as the next boy."

Just then, the oven chimed, signalling the end of the baking time for Dromeda's cookies. Relieved at having something to take her eyes from Bella's angry face, the young witch busied herself by fishing out an oven mit and pulling open the square door, extracting the thin sheet of metal with its lumps of golden-brown dough. Tentatively, the youngest Black girl took out a toothpick and inserted it delicately into the middle of one of the cookies, like a healer at St. Mungo's performing a dangerous restorating spell. "They're perfect," breathed Andromeda, plucking out the toothpick without any signs of soft dough on it.

"Perfectly muggle-made," sneered Bellatrix, throwing herself into one of the high stools in the room. "Your dirty-blooded boyfriend can have them, Dromeda. I have better taste, myself."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, the young witch scooped her creations onto an onyx platter. "I spent quite a while on them. They should be delicious, really. I followed the recipe to the letter."

Bella made a scathing noise and flicked a glass over with her fingers.

"Kreacher did help me find the ingredients," added Andromeda meekly. "But I told him I wanted to bake them myself."

"Why, so you could tell your muggle sweetheart you worked hard, pouring out your pureblood sweat over his present?"

"No." Sticking her chin out stubbornly, the young witch slammed the metal cookie sheet into the sink with unnecessary force. "It's because I like baking."

"Maybe you're meant for a Muggle life, then," replied Bella cruelly.

Narcissa had watched this exchange for several minutes in silence, her beautiful face dark. After Bellatrix made her last statement, the most gorgeous of the three sisters narrowed her thickly-lashed eyes. "They look just splendid, Dromeda," Narcissa said loudly, sticking her wand into her robes with finality. Picking up one of the still-warm sweets, she took a small bite out of it. Andromeda's expression lightened fractionally, a smile threatening to break onto her features. "I _love_ Muggle cookies," Narcissa asserted, to Bella's scandalized astonishment. "I simply _adore _them!" And with one long, defiant glare at Bellatrix, she devoured the hot treat in one gulp.

Andromeda positively beamed.


End file.
